


An Illusionists Most Prized Possession

by Scarlet_Nin



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: A sick illusionist has little control over his powers, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eye Trauma, Fear of hospitals, Fever, Found Family, Gen, Hallucinations, Hibari Kyouya Has A Heart, Human Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mentions of Estraneo Familiga, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Child Abuse, Post-Rainbow Battle, Sawada Tsunayoshi takes care of his guardians, Sick!Mukuro, in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:15:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23744416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Nin/pseuds/Scarlet_Nin
Summary: “An experiment?” Yamamoto frowns, near faltering in his steps as they near Kokuyou land.“Yeah,” Tsuna mumbles, trying to shake off the heat on his fingertips. No use in bursting into flames. This isn’t a fight he can win with his dying will. “It’s where he got his eye.”He’ll regret it. When Mukuro gets wind of him mouthing off his past he’ll get nightmares for years to come. Full of horrors and war and hell on earth. It’s personal and offers an insight to his behavior others without certain knowledge would not have and he’ll hate it. Hate Tsuna for opening his mouth and talking.But as much as he denies becoming a Mafia Boss, these people are his family and he’d die to protect them. Even from themselves.
Relationships: Chrome Dokuro & Rokudou Mukuro, Flan | Fran & Rokudou Mukuro, Rokudou Mukuro & Kokuyou Gang, Rokudou Mukuro & Sawada Tsunayoshi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

Despite the chaos having taken root inside of his life Tsuna couldn’t be mad about tripping over its wayward roots. Not when there were flowers blooming, brightening his previous dull grey days in vibrant colors and his friends were ready to catch him whenever he fell. Gone were his gloomy days as “Dame-Tsuna” where he’d eat lunch alone or hiding from bullies. Humiliation aside, he wasn’t alone anymore. He couldn’t be more grateful for their company.

Still, it’d be nice to eat one peaceful lunch with no interruptions.

Faint shouting is heard through the door leading to the roof, the following of heavy footsteps getting nearer.

Yamamoto perks up at the sounds, chewing through a mouthful of rice. “Sounds like Hibari got his hands full.”

“Who cares,” Gokudera scoffs, looking unbothered as he adds on. “As long as it’s not one of us I don’t see the problem.”

“Don’t be so mean,” Yamamoto laughs, watching the door with interest. “They usually don’t last long enough to give him a good chase. So, whoever’s running for their lives surely must be having a lot of fun right now!”

_That doesn’t sound like fun at all!_ Tsuna can’t help but think, biting worriedly on his chopsticks. Yamamoto makes it sound like a deadly game of tag instead of running from a beating which will end up with a trip to the nurse office if they’re lucky. Depending on the offense and Hibari’s mood the victim might end up in the hospital.

“They’re so lively today,” Kyoko agrees with a sunny smile, far too used to the shouting and violence. Tsuna admires her ability to take everything at face value, always seeing the good and none of the bad but he can’t help but think something bad is going to happen. Since waking up yesterday he’s been feeling off. Not in the way a math test he isn’t prepared for makes his stomach cramp into knots but the kind where he feels off balance. Rather than a danger, he’s feeling distressed and he’s got no idea why.

With Reborn admitting to not being the cause of such a signal, Tsuna worries over what will happen. The last time he’s felt this off was when his father came home for the Rainbow battle.

The door to the roof slams open and a child stumbles through, dodging a flying tonfa with a shriek of fear, tripping over their feet.

Chrome is on her feet in an instant, Kyoko close behind. “Fran!”

“Chrome,” Fran cries out, rising to his feet to lunge for her waist. “Tell Bird-man to stop trying to kill me!”

“Birdman…?”

Hibari walks through the door, murder flashing in his eyes with a feather head stuck onto head. Hibird is fluttering over the feathers, singing softly as Yamamoto tries to stifle his laugh and Gokudera starts chuckling.

“Your hair is a violation to the school’s dress code,” Hibari growls, stalking across the distance as they hurry to get on their feet and Fran hides behind Chrome. “I shall beat you to death, tiny illusionist.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Tsuna throws out his arms, stepping in front of Chrome, who’s trying to console an upset child. Mukuro’s student or not, a child that young is undeserving of a beating. “I’m sure he’s got a good explanation for coming to school!”

“Fran,” Chrome says as she crouches down to eye-level, frowning in concern. “Did Mukuro-sama send you here?”

Her voice is soft, intent to soothe the ruffled feathers of a child clinging to her waist with an iron grip. Fran’s skin is pale, as pale as Chikusa’s skin he makes a point to make fun of. Eyes wide, he rocks from side to side, tugging at her sweater as he shakes his head.

Hibari loses some of his anger at the confession, muscles relaxing.

“You need to come with me,” Fran urges, trying to pull her towards the door. Chrome stumbles along, putting a hand on his head to stroke his hair. He grips her wrist, dragging her only to falter at seeing Hibari still blocking the access to the stairs.

“Leaving school early without an excuse is not allowed.” Hibari glares but Fran doesn’t shrink back. In the blink of an eye, he holds a gun in his trembling hands. Chrome digs her heels into the ground.

“Fran!” She scolds, pushing down his gun. “That’s dangerous! Don’t pick a fight with him.”

Fran shrugs her off, throwing his hands into the air. “We don’t have time to waste!”

“Easy there, little frog-guy.” Yamamoto says, smiling as he holds up his hands in a pacifying manner. “Why don’t you tell us why you need Chrome? Who knows, we might be of help as well.”

His attempts to calm the situation don’t work. Tsuna can see the stress in the flickering mist flames the child gives off, a dark indigo bleeding into a wavering pastel shade of dark blue. He wishes Reborn were here. His tutor always had a hand for diffusing a situation if he needed to. With his gun, mostly and a few creative death threats but he’s sure he could make Fran put down the gun with nothing but a look. Much like Mukuro could. Speaking off the devil…

“Master doesn’t like strangers in his home.”

“We’re not strangers, you brat.” Gokudera scowls, taking offense to the past fights they’ve shared or taken part in being swept under the rug. With the amount of times Mukuro attacked them and the near-death experiences it’s no wonder it stings. “The Tenth is his boss and you saw them fighting the Vindice a few months ago.”

“Does Mukuro know you’re here?” Tsuna asks when Fran turns to look at him, making sure to keep his voice kind. He’s sure Mukuro wouldn’t appreciate any of them scaring his apprentice no matter how much trouble the kid got into.

“No,” Fran’s voice wavers at the confession, gun disappearing into smoke. “I left an illusion of myself there, with Ken and Chikusa, to come and get the woman he’s so fond off.”

“That wouldn’t work.” Chrome blurts out, brows furrowing as she takes a hold of Fran’s shoulders. “Mukuro-sama would know in an instant it’s a fake. Fran, what’s going on?”

The question runs through everyone’s mind. In the time they’ve known the kid and his future version, he never got this upset. Even while watching them battle the Vindice he’s gotten startled at hearing Chrome raise her voice at him but not like _this_.

The shaky breathes, the skittish eyes, the wavering voice. Fran’s panic is visible to every single person on the roof. Tsuna’s soft spot for children has him wanting to comfort the kid, who looks closer to kneeling over with every second that passes, shifting his weight from foot to foot like he wants to start running.

“There’s something wrong with Master,” Fran lets out in one breath, afraid if he doesn’t get the words out in one go, they’ll get stuck inside his throat. The illusionary feather head disappears from Hibari’s head as he wrings his hands, not minding the blood soaking through the fabric of his jeans, on the spots on his knees. “I don’t know what to do.”

“What’s wrong with him? Fran, you need to tell me what’s wrong if you want me to help you.”

The desperation in Chrome’s voice breaks the careful mask of bravery on Fran’s face. Lips quivering his hands come up to tug at his hair, missing his usual apple head as his eyes grow glassy.

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Fran cries, gasping for breath as he rocks on his feet. “Master was feeling off the last few days. Nobody would tell me anything but they told me to be quiet and to practice my illusions if I’m bored. Yesterday, when the guy who made our mittens came, Master got all angry and threw him out! Just like that. He didn’t even do anything for him to be mad over.”

“So, the guy was being a bastard, what’s new?” Gokudera mumbles, wincing when Fran started to shake, harshly tugging at his hair. Tsuna cringes, imaging the pain his scalp must be feeling. Yamamoto digs his elbow into Gokudera’s side, smiling without his eyes.

Fran swallows thickly. “But…but today he…he scared me. I’m scared.”

Alarm bells going off, Tsuna couldn’t help but ask. “He didn’t hurt you, right?”

Fran shakes his head, biting his lips raw. “I’m not the person he’s hurt.” He turns to Chrome, pleadingly staring up at her. “Please come quick. You can help calm him down. Master…he needs help.”

“I’ll go,” She says firmly despite the worry shining in her eye. She turns to look at Hibari, bowing slightly. “It’s a family emergency.”

Hibari doesn’t refuse her the right to go as she puts her hand onto Fran’s shoulder and disappears into mist flames.

* * *

“What are you doing here, Verde?”

“Why, can’t I come and visit a friend?”

Reborn looks around the empty street, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Verde sighs, rubbing at his temples.

“Fine,” He snaps, righting his glasses. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Oh?” Reborn goads, knowing he’s got the upper hand if Verde is willing to lower himself to asking for help. He smirks, taunting him. “And what could you possibly want enough to reduce yourself to begging to me of all people?”

“Essentially, I’m also doing you a favor by asking you in the first place. So, get of your high horse and listen.” Verde is unimpressed, hiding his fists in the pockets of his coat. Reborn purses his lips, intrigued at the implications behind these words and gestures for the man to go on.

“Sawada’s your brat and it’s in your interest for him to become a good Mafia Boss. One of the principles you chose to teach him were empathy for his subjects which obviously extends to his Guardians. Correct me if I’m wrong.” Verde continues on, snorting at the thought of being incorrect and Reborn frowns. “But Rokudo Mukuro is his Mist Guardians despite his claims to the contrary. So, it’s your duty to make sure Sawada treats his Guardians like family, which involves making sure they’re healthy and fit to battle should the time arise.”

“Where are you going with this?” Reborn asks, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not one to beat around the bush, so spit out what you want. I haven’t got all day.”

“Have Sawada check on his guardians regularly.” Verde add on as an afterthought. “It’s his duty after all.”

Taken aback, Reborn blinks. That request might have sounded worried from anyone else but coming from Verde it’s strange. The man never cared about anything but his research and science. While he knows of the weird fascination the man has gotten with mist flames and his excitement over working with Rokudo Mukuro to project illusions into reality he didn’t think he’d form any attachments to the group living in a rundown and abandoned building. Verde doesn’t _do_ attachments. Having him working together with the Kokuyou Gang had been a surprise considering their history.

“…Why?” Known for being difficult Reborn isn’t in the mood to make it easy for Verde to get what he wants. “What’s brought this on? Don’t tell me you’ve finally build yourself a heart.”

“I don’t,” Verde looks insulted at the thought of being capable to care for another human being. Pulling down his fedora to hide his glee Reborn scoffs, turning on his heel to walk away.

One step, then another. Two turns into three and into four—

“He threw me out.”

Reborn stops walking. “What?”

“He was willing to work with me occasionally after the Rainbow battle,” Verde explains, a disgruntled frown on his face. “To improve my technology and his illusions. We had a deal. He can use my equipment and learn a thing or two since he’s clearly lacking formal school education and I get to study mist flames. But when I showed up on Tuesday, he threw me out.”

“And you let him?” Reborn snorts, not bothering to hide his sneer. “That’s not like you at all.”

“What should I have done? Shocked him?”

“Sure, a deal is a deal or is it not?”

“Painting myself as a threat would do me no favors. I want him to work with me. Paralyzing him and his friends would ensure our alliance broken beyond repair. I haven’t seen anyone with such rapid improvement and sheer strength in creating illusions before. Mist flames are different from the other flames, it’s a matter of mind over matter usually. To create something from nothing through sheer force of will and to morph it into reality is creation at its finest form. The possibilities are endless and you want me to throw access to such a fascinating power away? For what? Being the alpha male?”

Verde sounds disgusted at the mere notion, going as far as to laugh in mockery at such thoughts. Reborn lets the brittle sound die out, petting Leon and relishing when Verde tenses at the movement.

“I don’t like when Information is being kept from me,” Reborn says nonchalantly, narrowing his eyes. “I’m sure Viper would agree. I don’t see why I should make Tsuna run around to check on his Guardians when you haven’t given me a good reason beyond a moody teenager having enough of your shit to throw your ass out.”

Having to put up with Verde’s quirks and flaws for a long time Reborn can sympathize with the urge. Never mind the fact Rokudo Mukuro is known for unpredictable impulse choices. Their alliance could have been built on a whim and nothing else.

Verde pauses, hesitating in voicing his next words. “I suppose it’s worth mentioning he didn’t throw me out until I asked him if it would be possible for him to conjure an illusion over my body and to project my adult self into it. Seeing as he was able to project his appearance into the female body of his friend, I was wondering if it was only possible because she was also a mist flame user or if it worked on anyone else if even for a short moment. Needless to say, I wasn’t disappointed with the results.”

“Too impatient to grow up the normal way?” Reborn shakes his head in mock disappointment, mind whirling about the strange reaction. By all means having the ability to turn one of their own back into their original adult self should be a reason to brag about, not one to be upset over. “Anything else you want to add?”

“It shouldn’t have taken a lot of effort, the boy did manage to turn his illusions into reality, the help of my technology not withstanding it’s still an incredible feat to accomplish.” Verde muses, glasses flashing in the sun. “Yet, he looked almost…sick during the process. His eye started to bleed as well.”

…Reborn’s instinct rarely proved him wrong in his line of work. Yet he couldn’t hope to be mistaken with his hunch this once. “You didn’t ask to take a look at his eye, did you?”

Verde’s silence answers him.

“You idiot,” Reborn deadpans, purposeful relaxing his muscles lest of all he gives into the urge to shoot something. Hitman or not, he had morals. Nobody knew what they were but he had a strict code of rules he stuck to while doing his job. The Estraneo Familiga were a prime example of what he wasn’t willing to do for success or money. The bad example for the Mafia to speak of. From his attitude and appearance Reborn’s sure Verde would fit right into the mold of long-lost buried childhood trauma with the tact of a bat crushing a glass window in one swing. Dragging up trauma in a child is a line Reborn isn’t willing to cross, save for getting them over it. As far as he’s observed Mukuro had done a good job at learning to work with it on his own. Verde had to go and fuck it up in one afternoon. All the work gone to waste. “What use is your big brain if you’re not using it?”

Reborn wonders when he’s started to care, not only for his student but the bunch of misfits he’s collected over the years. They’ve grown on him much like fungus. It hadn’t been in his job description to care, but watching these kids grow had affected him for better or worse.

“Are you going to handle this or not?” Verde bristles, glaring.

_Who else would?_ Reborn wants to say but he can’t let Verde know he’s got affected. He had a reputation after all. Student making him soft or not, his blood is still Mafia black.

“Finally grown a heart?” He mocks, smirking as Leon turns into a flag with a bright green heart onto it. “It makes you more humane. Careful now, better not let anyone else know you’re not a robot.”

Instead of denying the truth, Verde scoffs as he turns to walk away. “You have no room to talk.”

The shot from his gun grazes Verde’s cheek. A line of blood is drawn. It still feels like a defeat.

* * *

Tsuna couldn’t shake the worry from his mind. Call him paranoid, but the sense of wrongness couldn’t be shaken after witnessing Fran’s scene on the roof.

_“I’m not the person he hurt.”_

_You’re overreacting,_ His mind hisses in distaste at his nervousness. _He’s not the type to do whatever you’re thinking. Don’t be ridiculous, Dame-Tsuna._

He’s right. Maybe he’s putting too much thought into a small issue. Mukuro could be having a bad day. He’s had plenty of those himself. Where getting out of bed and forcing himself to walk to school was a nightmare. His bad days lessened since Reborn showed up but he still had them. Days were he’d rather hide under his blanket, locked into his room. He’d had one of those, were stress and responsibility didn’t allow for him to isolate himself, in the future which will never be and he’d yelled at Lambo for being annoying.

Sometimes, you couldn’t control yourself as much as you wished you could. For all his show of insanity and weirdness Mukuro liked to portray, Tsuna saw his good-will in the way he treated Chrome and his other friends. Someone without a heart, without a shred of sanity and kindness could never inspire honest love in those around them. Would never be willing to let his body be destroyed to defeat a common enemy nor would he hurry to aid Chrome and look so pained at being refused to help.

Mukuro had wanted to aid Chrome despite their deal being broken when he got his freedom. Painting himself as the villain and going out of his way to ensure she’d find herself …he’d branded himself as a good person at heart in Tsuna’s eyes. If he wanted to be the bad guy, Tsuna didn’t find it necessary to destroy that illusion he’d created to shield himself from the world.

“Don’t look so gloomy, Tsuna,” Yamamoto nudges him in the shoulder offering him a grin. “I’m sure Chrome is gonna show up and it’ll be fine. These two got a good hold on each other.”

“The idiot got something right for once, Tenth. She knows how to handle the pineapple bastard just fine. If you want, I can go pay him a visit to teach him a lesson for making you needlessly worry.”

Yamamoto blinks. “I admire your confidence. Wasn’t it you who said he has trouble seeing through illusions on a good day? Now, you’re willing to storm their hideout? Count me in because it sounds like fun!”

“Why you—” Gokudera splutters, cheeks flushing in embarrassment at being called out. He reaches out to grasp Yamamoto’s collar, shaking him in warning.

Tsuna smiles at their antics, ignoring the classmates filling into their classroom at last minute. Their teacher clears his throat when the bell rings and he sits up straighter when he sees Chrome hurry into the room, eye fixated on the ground with a visible cloud of misery hanging over her head.

It reminds Tsuna of Yuni’s face in the future. Sad and full of grief.

No matter how often he tries to catch Chrome’s eye, she doesn’t raise her head from her desk.

Even Yamamoto and Gokudera can’t keep up a face of normalcy. Something is clearly wrong.

Tsuna hopes it’s something they can fix.


	2. Chapter 2

Lunch is a quiet affair. Kyoko doesn’t join them instead having lunch alone with Hana under a tree in the small garden near the sports field. She tells her brother to meet up with them on the roof and Tsuna is grateful for her empathy and makes a note to ask his mother to make a few cookies for her. When they get to the roof, Hibari is napping on the upper part, soaking in the sunlight and for once he doesn’t care if they wake him up with talking too loudly.

He’d gladly take the beating if it would put a smile on Chrome’s face right now.

“Are you going to talk?” Gokudera asks impatiently after they’ve been sitting in a loose circle on the ground, unpacking their lunches and awkwardly enduring the suffocating silence for five minutes. “We can’t read your mind. The Tenth’s been out of his with worry.”

“Gokudera-kun!”

“It’s fine,” Chrome mumbles.

Gokudera rolls his eyes, chewing on an eggroll. Yamamoto titles his head, balancing his lunchbox on his lap, as he leans forward. “So? What happened? Is the little frog guy alright?”

Chrome hesitates, but nods.

“Great!” Yamamoto cheers, grinning. “How about Mukuro? Did he fight off the bad guys the little guy was worried about? He sure was upset yesterday.”

“I bet he fought them off extremely quick!” Ryohei pumps a fist into the air, always in a good mood whenever fighting is mentioned. He doesn’t take notice of Chrome’s flinch. “He’s a skilled fighter after all! Hibari would agree with me, right?”

Hibari grunts, opening one eye to give him a vicious glare from his napping spot.

“See?”

“Idiotic lawn-head, the woman can speak for herself,” Gokudera scowls, wiping at the corner of his mouth and wrinkling his nose when Ryohei ends up getting rice corns on his clothes while talking with his mouth open despite chewing on food. He turns to Yamamoto. “It’s not a game! Stop labeling hitman and our enemies as bad guys, baseball-lunatic.”

Ryohei bristles. “What did you say, octopus-head? Wanna fight?”

“Stop speaking when your mouth’s already full!”

“Now, now, let’s clam down,” Yamamoto claps his hands together, interrupting the glaring match. “We’re all here to have a nice lunch after all.”

“I’m not speaking when my mouth’s full!”

Gokudera’s eye twitches, dodging flying a piece of chewed rice. “That’s because you end up spitting it all out when you talk! It’s gross.”

Tsuna frowns. “Guys—”

“That’s it!” Ryohei shouts, putting aside his lunchbox and getting to his feet. “You and me, right here and now, octopus-head—"

“There was a group of men,” Chrome cuts in, staring at her lunchbox with a faraway gaze darkening her eye. They fall silent at her words, the rising heat cooling at her soft voice. “—in Mukuro-sama’s room when I came in. They were tall, wearing lab coats and I couldn’t understand what they were saying. And…and there was a lot of blood on the floor.”

Tsuna swallows the dry mouthful of rice with a heavy stomach.

“Want me to take an extreme look at him?” Ryohei is mindful of her somber mood, sitting back down and it’s clear he doesn’t ask about the men because nothing could leave Chrome this distraught if Mukuro hasn’t been the one to suffer some kind injury. There’s no doubt he’s disposed of them for daring to hurt him. But Chrome swallows, hands tightening around her chopsticks with enough strength to turn her knuckles white.

“I didn’t know what was going on…Mukuro-sama was yelling. Loudly. He didn’t sense me at all and he sounded…he sounded scared and these men were closing in, so I attacked them. I had to protect him and Fran hiding in the living room, there was no other choice.”

“You don’t need to feel guilty about that!” Tsuna intends to soothe, trying to force down his own panic because what sort of monsters could make Mukuro feel afraid? “You defended your friend, that’s never something you should feel guilty about!”

Gokudera agrees, reaching out to give her a pat on the shoulder. “Give the pineapple bastard a few days and he’ll get over his hurt pride at having you defend him.”

“When I tried to…to stab one of the men, to make sure they couldn’t hurt him,” Chrome sucks in a breath, hand trembling as her voice grows shakier. “—I couldn’t.”

“Oh, Chrome…”

“No, you don’t understand!” She bursts out, loud enough to startle them. “My trident went through their bodies! No matter how often I stabbed one of them, it…it just went through! They couldn’t bleed.”

“But the blood…”

“They weren’t real.” She insists, frantic as her shoulders hunch forward. “Those men weren’t real, but illusions made from Mukuro-sama’s mind and yet he didn’t recognize them. They couldn’t hurt him. I tried to get close, to get a look at where all that blood came from and it’s then when Ken and Chikusa barraged into the room. They were yelling at me, before talking to Mukuro-sama in…in Italian, I think.”

Gokudera chokes on a bite of sushi. “He didn’t—”

“No, Mukuro-sama would never hurt any of us.”

“But then—” Tsuna felt a shiver run down his spine. “You don’t mean Mukuro—”

“He laughed it off.” Chrome set down her lunch, hands curling into fists on her lap. “After he recognized us, after Chikusa calmed him down with a dose of rain flames, all he did was laugh. His eye was still bleeding after Ken bandaged it up and all he told me was to get Fran away and to leave him alone. Said it would heal in a few days and I shouldn’t worry. But how can I not worry when he tried to crave his own eye out?”

A tear rolls down her cheek, Chrome choking back a sob. She stares at her hands like they’re stained with blood and Tsuna thinks he’s going to be sick. A glance around tells him he’s not the only one. Yamamoto’s smile is gone, Gokudera’s lips are parted and his eyes are wide and unbelieving in what he’s hearing, hand frozen in the motion of lighting up a cigarette and Ryohei is deadly silent, face twisted into a grimace of horror.

“So, it’s more serious than I thought,” Reborn’s voice breaks the silence. Tsuna flinches at the weight settling on his head. “Now, what are you going to do, Tsuna?”

“Get him into a hospital!” Mind numb with shock Tsuna can’t help but shake off Reborn from his head, feeling betrayed. “You knew.” It’s not an accusation, but close to it.

“Verde came to speak with me.” Reborn admits. “But I doubt a hospital would work.”

“He hates hospitals…” Chrome whispers, looking small and meek and Tsuna hates to see her revert back into her shell after she’s done such a great job at coming out of it.

“Tough luck,” Gokudera spits out, fingers crushing his cigarette in half. “Should have thought of that before he went and gorged out his eye. Who the fuck does that? Seriously, what the _fuck?_ ”

A reprimand lays on Tsuna’s tongue but he swallows it back down when he sees the concern hiding behind the anger and sheer incredulity in Gokudera’s eyes. Shaking his head, Tsuna rises to his feet, not caring his lunch ends up on the floor.

“Tsuna,” Reborn’s voice makes him freeze. “Don’t act hasty. Not when you don’t know the full extent of what you’re dealing with.”

“He hurt himself, Reborn!” Tsuna’s voice breaks on his words as he rounds on his tutor, eyes blazing in their panic and disbelief. “And you think I should wait? Are you hearing yourself?”

The bullet near his feet doesn’t make him jump but it’s enough of a warning for him to watch his tongue.

“Listen,” Gone is the warmth and all that’s left is the cold hard truth. Reborn doesn’t sugar-coat anything as he blows away the smoke coming out of his gun, a real one instead of Leon. “—and _think_. Don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment.”

Tsuna takes in a deep breath and nods.

“Good,” Reborn puts away the gun, pointing at the ground. Tsuna obediently shuffles over to sit back down. “Chrome, why were Ken and Chikusa gone when you arrived?”

“They went to go and get medicine,” She wipes at her eye, sniffling. “because Mukuro-sama caught a fever. They wouldn’t tell me what was being said.”

“If they knew why did they let it get this bad?”

She pauses, accepting the handkerchief Tsuna hands her. “Chikusa told me they’re against chemicals because it’s not natural. They don’t like to take medicine because they view it as drugs. An illusionist relies on their ability to control their own perception…medicine and sickness make it difficult to concentrate and to differentiate between reality and illusions.”

“You’re telling me he stabbed himself in the eye because he was driving himself crazy with his own illusions?” Gokudera pinches the bridge of his nose, anger bleeding out of his body while he fumbles with getting out another cigarette.

Yamamoto titles his head, any playfulness lost. “But…why? Chrome told us the men in the room did nothing but corner him. They couldn’t hurt him but he thought they would. We’ve seen the guy fight with us against some of the scariest people in the world. Like those mummified zombies that imprisoned him. Shouldn’t that have scared him more than guys in lab coats?”

_What could scare Mukuro of all people to a point of self-mutilation?_

It’s easy to lose himself in the sensation of relief. Tugging at one’s hair, pinching one’s self or punching a wall. All attempts of distracting one’s self from emotional turmoil while delivering punishment and releasing frustrations. Tsuna’s been there, when self-hatred at his own failures brought him to bit his lip bloody, scratching at his arms as he’s cried himself to sleep, wishing he could be better. Days where he slowed down enough the bullies could catch him. Spending nights out in the cold instead of at home when his father came to visit. Sick at the thought of having to watch his parents play happy family for a day until his father would leave his mother heart-broken again. Reborn had helped him put aside these thoughts of unworthiness.

But he knew all too well what could drive someone to the point. Except anger might not be the motivator in this case.

_He stabbed himself in the eye…_

_Because his illusions were scaring him._

_Guys in lab coats. Speaking Italian._

“Say Chrome…” Clearing his throat Tsuna clenches his hands in his sweater. “Were Ken and Chikusa scared of those men?”

Heart ponding in his chest hard enough to hurt his ribs Chrome’s answer sounds distant to his ears.

“I…I don’t think so but I wasn’t there from the start.” She bows her head. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” He reaches out to squeeze her hand reassuringly, the contact of her warm skin bringing him back down to earth. “I…I was just curious.”

_You’re right._ His Hyper Intuition purrs at the way his thoughts connect together to form a picture. Tsuna forces down bile, letting go of his sweater to cross his arms, feeling his nails dig into skin through the fabric of his shirt. The heat simmering underneath his skin is restless. His pulse beating against his ears.

“I think I know why he’d go so far,” Tsuna mutters staring off into space.

_But I don’t know if I can help him with this._

“Mukuro-sama forbid me from coming back as long as he’s sick. Could you…could you check on him for me, Boss?”

“Are you sure?” He can’t imagine Mukuro would take kindly to anyone kicking down his door right now. Not when he’s made sure to receive no visitors.

“You’re kind and your presence reassurances me a lot.” She gives him a watery smile. “I don’t think he’d see you as a threat.”

_Please help him because I can’t._

The words are painfully clear. Tsuna cannot refuse her.

“Okay,” He says, mirroring her weak smile with one of his own. “I’ll try my best.”

* * *

_“An experiment?” Yamamoto frowns, near faltering in his steps as they near Kokuyou land._

_“Yeah,” Tsuna mumbles, trying to shake off the heat on his fingertips. No use in bursting into flames. This isn’t a fight he can win with his dying will. “It’s where he got his eye.”_

_He’ll regret it. When Mukuro gets wind of him mouthing off his past he’ll get nightmares for years to come. Full of horrors and war and hell on earth. It’s personal and offers an insight to his behavior others without certain knowledge would not have and he’ll hate it. Hate Tsuna for opening his mouth and talking._

_But as much as he denies becoming a Mafia Boss, these people are his family and he’d die to protect them. Even from themselves._

_“The Estraneo Familiga was known for their human experimentations.” Reborn fills in the blind spots Tsuna misses, willing to support his decision and helping him follow through his doubts. “Particular involving children. They were obsessed with the idea of reincarnation and their glory. Not much is known about them aside from the brutally of their experiments making them an outcast to the Mafia. Due to their sickening treatment of children other Familiga’s persecuted them in the hopes of putting an end to such a disgraceful organization.”_

_“Are they still around?”_

_Tsuna shakes his head. Yamamoto doesn’t seem to mourn the loss. Neither does Ryohei. “Who killed them?”_

_“Mukuro did.”_

_“I might not be a fan of the guy,” Gokudera takes a drag of his cigarette, trying to calm his nerves and rearing temper. “but I can’t fault him for that.” He blows out the smoke._

_Tsuna can’t either. The part of him which should feel pity for the lost lives is bleeding from the reminder one of his Guardians were ready to blind themselves. He wonders what his lack of grief for murder says about him._

_A coattail of black flashes in the corner of his eye._


	3. Chapter 3

They aren’t met with any resistance upon walking into the abandoned building. The light shines in through broken window glasses, the lack of curtains apparent as they walk down the hallway, footsteps echoing. There are no rats or mice running around, hushing around the corners despite the cracks and holes in some of the walls. Tsuna follows the pull, the little nagging at the back of his head always telling him whenever Mukuro’s near and turns down right at one of the corners, leading his friends down towards a normal looking door of dark wood.

“Should we knock?”

Gokudera slaps a hand to his forehead at Yamamoto’s question. Before he can say anything Ryohei hammers against the wood, loud enough to echo down the hall. He doesn’t hesitate in pushing open the door, pulling them into the room.

They blink at the darkness greeting them. The only light falling into the room is what little they let in through the ajar door and the rays of the sun shining through the small square-sized window at the upper left corner of the room. A single bed is pushed against the wall, occupying the most space in the room. On the nightstand is a glass of water and a metal bowl, no other furniture visible. The figure underneath the blanket stirs, sitting up. A washcloth falls into the person’s lap.

“Ken?” Mukuro’s voice is hoarse, the noise of someone who’s spent hours screaming his throat raw. Eyes having a hard time adjusting to the darkness they hear him clear his throat. “Chikusa?”

Yamamoto is grabbing at the wall, trying to find a light switch.

“Oya, it seems someone broke in. Now, either go away or I’ll burry you in the backyard.”

Fury coats the words in a way Tsuna hasn’t heard since he’s been told to shot at Daemon Spade without holding back. The tension in the room thickens, the hair on the back of his neck standing up straight at the dark bitterness threatening to choke him. He’s spent enough time around Reborn, Hibari and the Varia to know the sensation is killing intent in pure and sickening intensity. He swears Reborn would almost be impressed at the sheer malice poisoning the air.

“Can you even get out of bed?” Gokudera asks, while Ryohei starts apologizing for their rudeness. “We’re extremely sorry for showing up without notice!” Kyoko most likely the reason behind the manners. Tsuna winces at the loudness at the same time Yamamoto flicks on the lights.

Mukuro bites back a hiss, outright glaring at them from his bed. Tsuna reels back on the back of his feet, flinching at the sight. His eyes focus on the gauze warping around Mukuro’s head, a plaster covering his right eye. Hair unruly to the point of messy, the paper-white skin close to the shade its been when he’s been released fresh out of prison—years without sunlight it had taken to lose its color—a single glassy eye is glowering at them. Lips twisted into a sneer and cheeks having a healthy dose of color in form of a blush.

Tsuna can tell with one look he’s lost weight again.

Yamamoto raises a hand in greeting, smile back in place. “Yo.”

“You look like shit.” Gokudera says as a greeting, doubling over when Ryohei nudges him harshly in the ribs with his elbow. He sucks in a breath, rubbing at the spot and Mukuro’s eye twitches.

“The backyard it is,” Mukuro drawls out, narrowing his eye though he makes no move to draw a weapon. “Fitting for a dead mutt.”

Yamamoto slaps a hand over Gokudera’s mouth, muffling his curses while pulling him into a one-armed hug. “Not to be mean, but I don’t think you’d win a fight against all of us as you are.” Hand lifting off Gokudera’s mouth who grumbles, he says it in a tone one does when speaking of the weather.

It stings, because it’s a truth. Mukuro’s jaw strains under the force of gritting his teeth.

“Chrome send us,” Tsuna interrupts lest of all a fight breaks out. He sees Mukuro’s muscle relax, eye softening at the admission. “She worries. Sorry for just coming in.”

“Now, that you’ve seen me,” Mukuro gives a dismissive wave towards the door. “you can leave.”

It’d be easy. To turn around and walk away. He’s fulfilled his promise to Chrome. The longer they’d hang around the worse the mood will get. People who hate vulnerability would rather waste away in misery than risk of getting seen and asking for help. Gokudera eyes the door, fingers itching for a cigarette.

Tsuna’s legs don’t carry him out the door. Steeling himself, he refuses to go with a shake of his head.

Mukuro’s lips twist into a tight smile. It’s not a nice smile. “I wasn’t asking.”

“You’re extremely sick,” Ryohei stalks across the room towards the nightstand to take the bowl, swiping the cloth from Mukuro’s lap without flinching at the suffocating bloodlust lingering in the air. “So, we’re here to make you feel better. That’s what family is for after all! No wonder Hibari likes to get into extreme fights with you for fun. You’re like two peas in a pod.” He dips a finger into the water, clicking his tongue before walking out the door.

Mukuro opens and closes his mouth a few times, settling for crossing his arms to lean back against the headboard with furrowed brows, shivering. The picture of someone plotting murder. The offense he takes in being compared to Hibari reminds Tsuna of a cat pushed into water.

“Did you take medicine?”

“Go away,” Mukuro sneers. “I’m not part of your despicable Mafia and I have no desire to humor your attempt of playing happy family.”

“Is that why you sent your own away?” Yamamoto asks, leaning against the door frame, ducking his head to avoid the glass thrown his way. It shatters against the wall in the hallway, water spilling across the floor. “Woah, that’s dangerous. I’ll go and look for a broom to clean up.”

“We’re only trying to help.” Tsuna shrinks back at the glare he gets, tugging at Gokudera’s sleeve to pull him out the door. “We’ll go look for a glass of water.”

He hurries down the hall, wondering if he’d made the right choice in leaving Mukuro alone. Just because he’s never liked having people aside from his Mom around when sick doesn’t mean other people liked to be on their own.

_It’s not like he can go anywhere else._ He decides and hopes he won’t return to an empty room.

* * *

They find a glass after searching the second cupboard in the makeshift kitchen, filling it with water before hurrying back down the hall, careful not to spill any liquid. Tsuna nearly runs into Ryohei, armed with a fresh bowl of chilled water and a towel in his hands while Yamamoto rounds the corner after having disposed of the shards in the hall.

The door is open, nobody having bothered to close it upon leaving. Ryohei steps in first, a bounce in his step.

“Let’s nurse you back to extreme health—”

“Lower your voice,” It’s a demand coated in artifactual sugar. “before I do it myself and cut your tongue out.”

Ryohei deflates, lowering his voice into an exaggerated whisper. “Sorry.” He walks to the bed, putting the bowl down on the bedside table, dipping in the towel and wringing the excessive water out. The moment he moves to lay it onto Mukuro’s forehead the sharp tip of a trident is pointing at his throat. A minor tremor runs through the hand holding it. One wrong shift from Ryohei and his blood would spill across the floor.

“Perhaps you misunderstood me,” Mukuro says, lips twisted into a hateful smile. Blade drawing a drop of blood, his eye never leaving Ryohei’s face. “I won’t hesitate to kill you if you insist on annoying me.”

Ice flooding his veins at the declaration Tsuna holds his breath. Hostility permeates the air, turning into the phantom sensation of a noose tightening around his neck, choking him. Gokudera hisses at the sight, fingers twitching to his pockets.

But Ryohei takes it all in stride, stepping away and dumping the towel back in the bowl with a frown. “Then we simply won’t annoy you, problem solved!” He nods as if to agree with himself.

“Your presence annoys me.” Mukuro retorts to spite him.

It sounds like Lambo arguing with I-Pin, a childish way to have the last word and Tsuna lets out a breath of relief when the trident vanishes into a cloud of fog, the weapon gone for now. He hopes it won’t return but the thought is unlikely.

“Be grateful we’re here at all,” Gokudera throws the package of crackers, leaning against the wall. Among the junk-food they were the only suitable option for a sick person to eat.

Mukuro catches them without looking, the package crunching under his forceful grip. “I’d be more grateful if you left.” He stifles a yawn, hand muffling the sound turning into a harsh cough.

Tsuna offers him the glass of water, careful not to step too close to the bed. Seeing Mukuro curl away from him, he sets the glass down on the table, awkwardly wiping his sweaty palms on his pants and waits, resisting the urge to do something stupid like rub Mukuro’s back like he’d do for one of his own kids at home. He might lose a hand for invading personal space without permission.

“That doesn’t sound good at all,” Yamamoto muses when the coughing stops. “We’ve brought medicine if you want some.”

“No.”

“I’ll go and make some extreme soup for you to eat.” Ryohei doesn’t wait for an answer, walking towards the door. “It’s always helped Kyoko whenever she’s caught the flu.”

Mukuro closes his eye and takes a deep breath. Much like Reborn when he’s praying for patience when Tsuna won’t get a math problem after having it explained to him for the third time. The resemblance is unsettling.

To prevent an explosion, Tsuna interjects to change the topic.

“You like chocolate, right?”

The question is innocent and abrupt enough to confuse Mukuro. “What?”

“Chrome told us you’re a fan of chocolate,” Tsuna fumbles to explain, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I…we aren’t here to make you feel worse. So, we can go and make you some, because keeping yourself hydrated when sick is important, and after we’ve seen you eat something, we’ll leave you alone. So, you can sleep this off.”

Goosebumps breaking out on his skin at seeing Mukuro narrow his eye, searching for something in his face, he tries hard not to fidget. The gaze of an integrator drills into him. Unrelenting and cold. Ready to drown him in the depth of blue as unforgiving as the ocean Tsuna tries to stay afloat.

“If it gets you to leave,” Mukuro allows, tearing his gaze away to look pointedly at Gokudera, a smirk creeping onto his face. “make sure it’s extra sweet.”

Tsuna relaxes, taking ahold of Gokudera’s sleeve, who grumbles “I’m not your fucking maid, pineapple Bastard,” and follows him obediently out of the door, dragging his feet like a sullen child. Yamamoto closes the door behind them, effectively blocking the noise of Mukuro’s mocking laughter.

“I’m going to pour it down his throat,” Gokudera vows, scowling. “Every last drop of it.”

Tsuna hums around the lump in his throat. Ignores the heaviness pressing down on his heart, the way sickness made Mukuro look more humane with the absence of his jacket and huddled under his blanket, tremors wracking his body.

Fingers brushing over the small glass bottle in his pockets, he tells himself it’s no different than forcing Lambo to take his medicine when he’s being stubborn. It’s for Mukuro’s own good. His condition, while appearing stable, would worsen in the next few days without help. Leaving him alone is too risky to consider. He might be Dame-Tsuna, who fails at everything he tries, but he refuses to deny himself the right to try.

He’ll carry his guilt like his failures, with pride at making others feel better.


	4. Chapter 4

“There’s no hot water.”

“The electricity works,” Yamamoto points out, watching Gokudera fume over heating the chocolate mixture of water and powder on the stove.

“No wonder the guy got sick,” Gokudera takes little to no comfort he hadn’t been forced to power the stove with his lightening flames. He’s glaring at the bubbles staring to surface in the pot with distain. “Showering in freezing water with his shitty immune system is asking for hypothermia.”

“He’s got his illusions. I’m sure if he can appear and vanish out of thin air, he can boil water.”

“What about the time he spent in prison? The other two don’t have Mist Flames.”

“I guess it’s a good thing he’s free now.”

Even Ryohei, who fills a bowl with soup he’s made from scratch, can’t help but grimace at the reminder it hadn’t always been the case. In the future which will never be, Ken and Chikusa and Chrome would have been living with freezing showers, little to no heating and barely any food due to the lack of money. Chrome isn’t the type to use her illusions for thievery and Tsuna hands over the bottle of sedatives, watching Gokudera pour a considerable amount into the drink.

“Reborn told me Verde’s hanging around,” Tsuna offers, trying to lighten the somber mood. “I’m sure he’s going to help them out by fixing the water and heating.”

At least he hopes so. It throws a new light on Mukuro’s motivation and willingness to form an alliance with someone he should hate on principle—a mafia-born scientist—and the thought hurts. Rather than asking for help, he choose to involve himself with a mad scientist, who could have easily double-crossed him in the long run, to get his hands on technology which could make his dreams a reality. Someone who could provide hot water for the price of fighting and the risk of death.

Eyes stinging, he pushes down the heat sinking into his heart, burning fiercely and possessively, a Sky raging to protect its own and watches Ryohei walk out of the small kitchen, balancing the bowl of soup in his hands.

“Let’s get this over with.” Gokudera pours the hot chocolate into a mug, not bothering to clean the pot. Tsuna reaches out to take it from him, he’s not going to let one of his other friends be the scapegoat for when Mukuro inevitably finds out what happened and is out for revenge. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Yamamoto gives pats them encouragingly on their shoulders. Before he can push on, Gokudera throws him a glare, stabbing a finger at his chest.

“Don’t you dare jinx us, baseball-maniac.”

* * *

The shattering of glass has them break out into a run.

_Hurry, hurry, hurry!_

The nagging in the back of Tsuna head grows louder with each repetition. Liquid spills over the rim of the cup, burning his hand as they catch up to Ryohei, who reaches for the door, one hand carrying the bowl, the heat of the soup ignored in favor of seeing what happened.

Did Mukuro accidently knock over the glass of water they left for him? They’ve been gone for about twenty minutes, half an hour tops, so he could have gotten thirsty and went to get another drink. Considering how shaky he had been just sitting in his bed, he could have fallen or stumbled and the glass could have slipped out of his grasp.

_What if he did fall? He could’ve hit his head and gotten a concussion, or fallen into the shards and cut himself._

Ryohei pushes the door open, faltering and losing his grip on the bowl of soup he carries. It crashes to the floor, shattering and his abrupt stop forces Tsuna to dig his heels into the floor to avoid running into his back. Panic urging him on Tsuna peeks around Ryohei’s shoulder.

Only Reborn’s year-long training saves him from crushing the cup in his grip.

There are men crowding in the room. All cruel eyes and vile smirks. When Ryohei instinctively punches one of them, his fist goes through the torso of the man as if he’s punching through thick fog. An illusion.

“Fuck,” Gokudera curses lowly, a slow hiss of breath.

Tsuna glances towards the bed, finding it empty. Eyes flickering around the room he sucks in a breath when he finds what he’s looking for.

Mukuro is crouched in a corner, a hand pressing tightly against his right eye. Fingertips smeared in blood he’s shivering violently, blanket lying on the floor, forgotten in the haste of getting out of bed. His breathes are labored, small and short gasps and his hair is in disarray, falling into his face, making him look unhinged.

“Hey,” He calls out, pushing the cup into Gokudera’s chest, hoping a familiar voice will help in breaking the illusion. “It’s not real.”

Mukuro doesn’t react. From this angle Tsuna cannot see his face.

“Tenth, I’ve got an idea.” Gokudera eyes the men inching closer to the bed with syringes and scalpels coated in lightening flames with disgust. His hesitation is brief and easily pushed away. Shouting “Hey, pineapple-head!” he darts forward through the crowd of scientists to throw the liquid onto Mukuro’s head.

“Gokudera-kun!” Tsuna shrieks in horror but Mukuro flinches, yelping at the heat burning his skin, falling forward on his knees, one hand bracing himself on the floor and hissing in pain. The chocolate while hot, shouldn’t cause more than first degree burns. But _still_.

“…Mukuro?”

Mukuro lifts his head and slowly, agonizingly slowly pulls his hand away. A patch of scarlet is visible on the gauze, running down his cheek in the parody of a tear. Staring unblinkingly at the men, face flushed in blotchy colors, the rest of his skin ashen, he chokes on a laugh.

A small, deranged sound growing in volume and hysteria.

“Kufufu—” The light flickers once, twice and the third time the men are no longer standing. The laughter cuts off as quick as it had come.

Tsuna reels back into Yamamoto’s chest, who startles, gasping at the strong scent of metal in nose, gagging. Even Gokudera swears at the sight, reaching up to cover his nose with his hands and Ryohei blanches.

“Right...” Mukuro whispers, a childlike wonder in his gaze like the sight of corpses drowning in a sea of blood across the room is reassuring rather than disgusting and horrifying. “They’re dead. I killed them.”

The sheer relief in his words hits Tsuna like a slap across the face. Nobody should sound so glad they’ve committed murder. Tearing his eyes away from the maimed corpses lying near his feet in puddles of their own blood he focuses on the shivering form kneeling in the corner of the room.

“Are you okay?” Tsuna squeaks out when Ryohei goes to get a mop and a broom. Mukuro reaches up to tug at his earring, fiddling with the piece of jewelry, brown water dripping down from the tips of his hair while soaking his gauze.

“Want to join them? If not then you’d be best to leave.”

Unlike the burst of rage befitting those words they sound empty. Hollow of resentment. Most of all they lack the energy. Mukuro just looks exhausted. Done with himself and ready to kneel over.

“Listen,” Tsuna begins, stepping closer and holding up his hands in surrender. He steps through the blood, cringing at the noise his shoes make hoping they won’t stain. The bodies disappear slowly, fading into fog. “Chrome is really worried about you just like Fran.”

The names catch Mukuro’s attention, who jostles upright.

“And you’re…really sick. I spoke with Reborn and…and we have a trusted doctor who volunteered to look after your recovery, so you don’t have to go to a crowded hospital—”

Mukuro tenses up, every muscle coiling tight in anticipation. Tsuna halts at the sight, treating carefully like he’s approaching a cornered wild animal rather than a sick teenager. He sees Gokudera edge around and Yamamoto blocking the door with his body and prays this will go according to plan B.

“I’m sorry,” He offers a sincere apology and lunges forward in a burst of speed. He crashes head first into the wall, Mukuro having vanishing into a veil of indigo mist flames. He twists around in time to see him swing his trident at Gokudera, who curses and dodges, slipping on the blood coating the floor. Mukuro sways, steading himself with his trident only to be tackled to the ground by Yamamoto.

“Woah, your skin is hotter than fire!”

Gokudera stumbles to his feet, back soaked in blood. “Hold him down, baseball freak!”

Tsuna hurries over, hovering as Yamamoto pins a struggling Mukuro to the floor, face down with his arms behind his back. He’s trying to keep his balance while doing his best not to hurt him but with the way Mukuro is buckling it’s hard to keep him still and be gentle. Tsuna is unsure on what to do, watching and biting his lips hard enough to break the skin.

“Get off!” Mukuro snarls, twisting in his hold, head slamming painfully against the cold floor, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

Gokudera pins down his legs, avoiding a kick to the face. “Calm the fuck down already!”

“Fuck you,” Mukuro spits out, eye wide and unseeing in his struggling not against people he’s fought with but ghosts of the past. Tsuna sees the lack of recognizing and kneels next to Mukuro’s face.

“It’s going to be okay,” Tsuna runs his fingers through soaked hair in an attempt to soothe the panic. “nobody’s going to hurt you.” No wonder Fran was inconsolable. Seeing his mentor in such a state must have hurt. Heart aching, he continues to speak nonsense, the same comforts he’d offer the kids at home when they’re having a nightmare and seek refuge in his bed.

It doesn’t work.

“No, no, no!”

He shouts, loud and bitter and filled with mind-numbing fear they hadn’t thought him capable of feeling. Mukuro is trashing in the hold as Yamamoto struggles to sedate him with a heavy dose of rain flames, shouting and cursing them to hell until Tsuna is sure his throat is bleeding like his eye. Gokudera is joining in, yelling in rapid-fire Italian in hopes of distracting him long enough the rain flames will flood his system and force him into submission.

It only serves to make Mukuro more upset.

The whole room bursts into mist flames, flower veins warping around Gokudera’s throat to pull him off, choking him and throwing Yamamoto across the room. Tsuna lunges for Mukuro, wondering how someone as sick as a dog could have this much strength left in his body and ends up tripping due to the flowers warping around his ankle. He watches Mukuro struggle to his feet, stumbling out the door and smearing blood across the doorframe. Fear is a good power booster, Tsuna knows from experience, having gotten away from his bullies through sheer luck and fear-induced speed often in his days before Reborn.

“Wait!” He’s quick to get back on his feet, burning away the flowers and staring down an empty hallway as Ryohei rounds the corner. “We lost him!”

“He can’t have gone far,” Yamamoto pants as the flowers keeping hold of him vanish. “I’ve poured enough rain flames into his body to know he couldn’t have made it out of the building in such short time.”

“Fucking fantastic,” Gokudera croaks out, rubbing at his throat and accepting the hand Yamamoto offers him. He lets himself be pulled off the floor. “Playing a game of hide and seek with a fucking illusionist.”

“That could have gone better,” Tsuna agrees, running down the hallway, flames coating his hands. “but we don’t have time to waste. Yamamoto try to get Koziro to pick up his scent.”

“Roger,” A flash of light blue and a dog is running ahead, tail waggling. Tsuna hopes it works because the burst of mist flames earlier coated everything in the familiar presence of his mist guardian and as much as he tries, he can’t pinpoint an exact location.

 _Shamal’s waiting for us,_ all that’s left to do is knock his mist guardian out. He hoped to do it with a cup of hot chocolate laced with sleeping drugs and Yamamoto’s calming presences full of rain flames but it didn’t work out. Going with the old-fashioned way or as Reborn would call it “Kidnapping: Mafia Style” would earn him no points to get back into his mist guardians good graces after he’s back to full health but he’s optimistic after surviving Reborn’s hellish training the chances he’ll end up dead are slim.

Having a revenge-driven Guardian was better than a dead one.

Tsuna can still hope Chrome will put in a good word for him.

* * *

They catch Mukuro ten minutes later, running out the door to Kokuyou land on his bare feet, using his trident like a walking stick. Tsuna uses his flames to propel him forward, wanting to see if it’s a fake to throw them off track or the real deal.

The second Mukuro steps a foot out the door he gets a tonfa to the stomach. Hibari catches him with one arm when he doubles over, holding up his weight as he goes limp before hefting him over a shoulder like a sack of rice.

“Omnivore,” Hibari greets as they come to a stop, dumbfounded at his arrival. “Show me the way to the doctor or I’ll bite you to death.”

“Sure,” Tsuna stammers, flames dying out as he relaxes. “Of course. This way.”

He doesn’t question how or why Hibari is present. Doesn’t worry he’ll drop Mukuro for being dead weight and bleeding over his clothes on their way as he leads them down the street, hurrying as much as he can without outright running.

The weight on his shoulder lifts and for the first time in days he can breathe freely.


	5. Chapter 5

Mukuro wakes to the smell of antiseptic and bleach, eye sliding open only to close again at the glaring light making his eye burn. The cold kiss of steel against his wrists has his pulse shooting up, head pounding with the noise of frantic beeping filling the room.

A hand covers his own and squeezes reassuringly.

His limbs don’t move, heavy in a way he hadn’t felt for months. The absence of pain in his right eye tells him he’s full of pain killers, numbing his sense into a false sense of stuffy security. He doesn’t have the energy to feel upset about his lack of control.

“I’m sorry,” A voice says, rubbing circles on the palm of his hand. The touch is freezing to his skin. “but we didn’t know what else to do.”

Mukuro forces his eye to adjust to the light, sliding his gaze to the person sitting next to his bedside, clinging to his hand.

Tsuna looks at him, eyes full of worry and any sharp retort on his tongue crumbles to dust. Maybe it’s the drugs he knows are keeping him subdued, messing with his head but the anger runs through his fingers like sand. The irritating noise grows fainter in his ears.

His silence is unsettling to Tsuna, who takes it upon himself to fill it with chatter.

“We…we weren’t trying to hurt you,” Pursing his lips, his eyes slid across the room. Mukuro follows his gaze, head lolling to the side and the person leaning against the window sill is none other than Hibari, who looks out to watch the afternoon sun. “Most of us weren’t. But you ran off and we were worried…it just got out of hand.” He gestures helplessly with his hands, curling into himself on his chair.

Mukuro stays silent. He’s not sure what Tsuna’s talking about, considering the last memories he has are blurry and hard to recall.

“Shamal, he’s a friend of Reborn and Gokudera’s previous tutor, got us this room. It’s in a hospital but in a private wing. Chrome said you didn’t like hospitals, so we tried to make it as bearable as possible. Your eye is healing well but you’ll need to stay for a few days.”

Making a face at the information he watches Tsuna slump into his seat. “Sorry.”

The door slides open, catching his attention. Gokudera and Yamamoto walk into the room, carrying cups of tea. At least the loud one wasn’t present. Even with the cotton brimming his head full of stuffing, he’s not sure he wouldn’t have lashed out in attempts to mute him.

Using mist flames while being mentally unstable wasn’t recommendable.

“Shamal should be coming soon to check up on you,” Gokudera says gruffly, handing Tsuna his cup of tea as Yamamoto does the same to Hibari. “Try not to flip out.”

Forget his earlier distaste of the loud one, he’d rather have a sun flame user check up on him than a doctor. Trying to sit up against his pillow is a struggle with the handcuffs restricting his movements to the bed. They’re not so tight to bite into his skin, but he couldn’t slip out without dislocating his wrists.

Tsuna’s eyes fall to his gaze, landing on his right wrist and he fumbles with his cup of steaming lemon tea, not meeting his eyes. He wears guilt like second-skin but the stubborn set to his jaw lets him know he won’t get out of them without a fight.

Instead of fighting, Mukuro does something he hadn’t thought he would lower himself to.

He admits defeat.

“Take them off,” His voice is raspy as he leans against his pillow and the headboard, not glancing at the tubes melting into his skin and the liquid flowing into his veins. “and I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

Tsuna hesitates, startling at the sound of his voice. “You’ll behave? No vanishing into thin air? It’s not a trick, right?”

The absence of Ken lying at the end of his bed, a warm and comfortable weight, standing guard and Chikusa’s presence in a chair next to his bed, polishing his yoyo’s makes the decision to be honest easy. He misses the sound of a magazine being flicked through as M. M. sits on the second chair near his bed like a queen, scolding Ken if he snores.

He’d rather have them here with him than to be stuck in another prison all alone. It’s selfish and weak, hurting them with his orders to leave him be and being unsatisfied upon being all alone despite having forced himself into solitude.

Mukuro chuckles, a short unamused noise to make him feel better. “Rest assured Tsunayoshi, if I wanted to leave, I would be gone already.”

“Better be safe than sorry,” Gokudera bares his teeth, holding up his cup of tea and Mukuro has the distant memory of getting soaked. “Just to see if you didn’t somehow sneak out and left us with a fake.” His fingers curl around his cup, smirking.

“Don’t bully a sick person, Gokudera.” Yamamoto scolds, walking over to ruffle his hair, dodging a punch to the throat. “I’m sure Tsuna would have noticed him sneaking away or something. He’s the best of us at seeing through illusions with his sixth sense!”

Tsuna blushes at the praise and Mukuro rolls his eyes, tapping his fingers against the cuffs. They dissolve into purple flames and he doesn’t rub at his wrists, instead beckoning someone closer with the wave of his hand.

“Fran,” He calls out, narrowing his eye at the corner of the room, effectively silencing them. “Come here.”

Nothing happens. Mukuro feels his lips twist into a smile.

“…what the hell did Shamal put him on?” Gokudera doesn’t bothering in keeping his voice low, brows furrowing as he glances at the empty spot Mukuro is staring at. Yamamoto laughs nervously, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Maybe he misses the little guy?”

“Master’s no longer acting crazy,” Fran appears next to the bed in a cloud of black and purple, falling into the chair opposite of Tsuna and swinging his legs as Gokudera startles, spilling tea on himself and cursing at the burn and Tsuna shrieks in surprise, leaping backwards over his chair. Fran turns to look at them, making jazz hands. “Boo!”

Tsuna whimpers, hand resting over his heart. Mukuro bursts into laughter that turns into a coughing fit.

“Take it easy,” Fran pats his leg, creating a paper bag to breath into. “In and out. In. Out. Slowly.”

“How did you get in here?” Gokudera interrupts the breathing instructions, furiously rubbing at his stained shirt. “Fucking illusionists.”

“It was really easy,” Fran scoffs, blowing air into the paper bag. “I concealed my presence and walked in behind you and bam!” His hand slams onto the air-filled end of the bag, letting it explode and vanish into thin air. “I was here. You didn’t notice me at all.” He turns to Mukuro.

“Master should praise me for doing a good job,” He deadpans.

Mukuro raises an eyebrow. “Maybe if you sneaked in through the window.” He throws a pointed glance at Hibari’s direction, seeing Fran blanch at the sight.

“I guess I should praise Master for noticing me in his state,” Fran pats him on the knees, tugging in his blankets around the edges. “Good job.”

Mukuro twitches at the jab, cuffing Fran in the back of his apple-sized head. Fran winces, holding his head. “Cheeky brat.”

“It hurts,” Fran says flatly, rubbing at the spot. Mukuro ignores him, sitting up straighter when a man enters the room, holding a clipboard. He doesn’t bat an eye at Fran, not looking up from his papers.

“It’s a surprise your brain didn’t come out of your ears with how high your temperature was,” He muses, walking close to stand at the foot of the bed. “Dehydration, lack of nourishment and a mild case of hypothermia. There’s also a rather large bruise on your abdomen, but no internal bleeding. To top it all off, your fever hasn’t broken yet. I’ve redressed the bandages around your eye, which seems to be healing well on its own and your friend did a good job in minimizing the damage with his sun flames. It’s nothing we can’t fix with time.”

“Yay,” Fran claps his hands.

“You’re one lucky, kid.” Shamal says, checking the monitors around the bed, fixing the IV and writing it down. “I hate treating men, but well there’s nothing I could do with Reborn holding a gun to my head and the rest of your bunch storming my private residence. I’m sure the cute miss with the eyepatch would be disappointed if I let you die.”

Gokudera rolls his eyes, leaning against the wall. “Pervert.”

“I could give you another dose of pain killer,” Shamal suggests in a bored voice, ignoring the jab at his personality with the ease of years of practice. “Perhaps the new brand of medication infused with rain attributes would do well—”

The heart monitor starts beeping in warning.

“—or not.”

“I refuse.”

“Are you sure? I imagine it to be quite painful without a dose of pain killers—”

“No more drugs.” Mukuro hisses through clenched teeth. “At all.”

“Okay, okay,” Shamal holds up his hands. “Hold your horses, kid. No need to get all worked up. It’s your choice. Might want to calm down before you bust that thing.” He points at the roaring heart monitor, scratching at the back of his head.

“Go away, go away,” Fran chants, holding up his hands and rocking back and forth in his chair, wiggling and face utterly blank. “Or I’ll scare you away!”

“…the kids keep getting weirder and weirder these days,” Shamal groans, turning on his heels to walk out the door. “Don’t pull out any of the tubes, don’t mess with the bags and don’t leave the bed without permission.” He throws over his shoulder, slamming the door shut.

“…I’m not going to ask.” Gokudera says, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re being noisy,” Hibari growls out with a murderous glare.

Gokudera bristles, not liking the rude tone. “What are you even still hanging around for?”

Tsuna silently agrees. Normally, Hibari wouldn’t have stayed, preferring quietness to the chattering off a hospital room. With the dried blood staining his jacket he’d thought he’d go home to change into a cleaner set. The promise of a fight is usual the only way to get Hibari to stay within their little group, but he couldn’t expect someone in a hospital bed to spar with him.

So, why was he still here?

“He’s my prey,” Hibari jabs the end of a tonfa into Mukuro’s direction. Despite the ominous words there’s no threat in his voice. It’s stated as a fact. “I’m not going to let anyone else beat him to death.”

“I doubt anyone here is going to beat him up,” Yamamoto takes a sip of his tea, gesturing around the room. “It’s a hospital after all.”

Hibari purses his lips, considering his words. He throws another glare at them before jumping out the window. Shouting follows, considering they’re on the third floor. The heart monitor slows down, turning into a steady noise and gentle curve.

“The scary people are gone,” Fran lets out a sigh of relief, sinking into his chair.

“Oya, I wouldn’t have expected you to be afraid of a little bird,” Mukuro grins, accepting the glass of water Fran hands him. A pineapple slice floats on the surface much to Mukuro’s distaste.

“I wouldn’t have taken Master to be someone who fears people like our tech guy.” Fran shots back, ignoring the scowl sent his way. He glances at the three other people in the room, listening with interest and titles his head, balling his hands into fists. “But I guess it’s a good thing. A heart capable of feeling fear is an illusionists most prized possession. Isn’t that right?”

After a long pause, Mukuro nods.

“I should consider myself lucky then.” Fran mumbles. “Because Master terrified me.”

Mukuro can’t breathe.

_I suppose it’s fitting,_ The nightmares and his imprisonment. All of it well deserved. _I’ve learned from the worst_. _I’ve become what I hate the most._ The thought makes him sick. He’d laugh at the irony, but the noise is stuck in his sore throat.

“I’m not one of the things you should be scared of,” Never. Fran’s bratty and eccentric but he’s Mukuro’s student, his to protect and he should never fear the hand feeding him. Not like Mukuro had.

“I’m not scared of you.”

Mukuro is taken aback. “You’re not?”

“I’m not scared of fruits,” Fran dodges the swing for his head, leaving his chair to sit on the bed. Careful not to mess up the tubes, he shuffles close. He points at his bandaged eye. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” As long as his body is numb with pain killers all he feels is tiredness and the heat of his skin burning with sweat.

“Good.” Honest in a way only Fran’s blunt sincerity can be, he says. “I don’t like being scared for you and cleaning up all the blood was a mess.”

“I think we should go,” Tsuna rises from his chair with a smile. “I hope you’ll feel better soon.”

Yamamoto waves as they shuffle to towards the door. “Chrome will surely come around for a visit. Get well soon.”

“Don’t die,” Gokudera is pulling out a pack of cigarette. Mukuro watches them leave, eyes growing heavier. The door slams shut.

“I’ll keep the bad ghosts away,” Fran whispers like they’re sharing a secret. “You can sleep now.”

With the familiar presence of mist flames sitting beside him, relaxing his muscles and providing a sense of safety and familiarity Mukuro gives into the exhaustion and drifts off.

* * *

The next time he wakes up is to a weight on his feet, warm and solid and a body lying next to him. His head hurts, the pain in his eye ripping him out of a heavy sleep full of boring darkness. The drugs must be wearing off, he thinks as he glances around the room, seeing Chikusa’s fallen asleep in his chair, Fran sharing the bed with him, drooling onto the sheets, his big apple head missing. Ken is curled up, snoring softly in the spot of morning sunlight shining in through the window and at his bedside table, next to a fresh glass of water, is a bouquet of flowers sitting in a vase.

White lilies and lavender. The smell is soft, drifting through the disinfectant perfume of the hospital.

Smiling, Mukuro closes his eyes breathing in the smell.

His skin is gross, far too hot and sticking to the sheets and his clothes. His skull is throbbing, his limbs aching like he’s run for days without stopping and his throat is dry.

But getting another few hours of sleep doesn’t sound too bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd done! If anyone was wondering, yes Chrome left the flowers there.

**Author's Note:**

> Orginally a one-shot, but since it's about 10k words, I decided to split it into four parts. 
> 
> Don't be shy to tell me what you think! It's hard getting the characters who never show any sort of vulnerability right while putting them into such a position. Fran's a favorite of mine and I tried to portrayed his character close to canon in the Manga. I hope they aren't too OCC. I'm re-reading the Manga and it's been a while since I wrote something.
> 
> Also, I want Fran to interact with the usual Gang, damnit!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always a god-sent!


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